


two times too many

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Friendship, Gen, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23212078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: Bernadetta buys something twice. Dorothea questions her about it.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2020





	two times too many

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raininshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininshadows/gifts).



> Occurs after Bernadetta and Dorothea's B support.

Bernadetta hums to herself as she walks through the marketplace, the cheery call of people bargaining and purchasing and chatting ringing around her. She doesn’t normally like to be outside, but it’s such a nice morning, and everyone is so focused on their shopping that no one is looking at her.

The meeting with one of her father’s tailors had gone well. He only ever communicates to her in letters that have her shaking as she opens them, but she doesn’t mind the staff all that much. Many of them are older than her and knew her as a child, and have seen her grow up, and are used to her strange ways. And she likes sowing, and exchanging tips with someone who really knows what they’re doing, not the dabbling that she does.

Even so, she’s had just about enough social interaction for today. As nice as it has been, she really wants to head back to her room. She has a test she has to study for, Professor Byleth insisting that she study up to become a sniper. Bernadetta isn’t too sure of that, but Byleth has been so nice to her, and she would hate to disappoint. Besides, studying is a great excuse to stay inside her room for days on end. And if she ends up passing her exam, well, that’s just an added bonus.

She’s just about to leave the marketplace when something catches her eye. It’s in the corner where the travelling merchants set up shop – not normally somewhere she goes, because they’re always hungry for sales and she always wants to avoid people yelling at her. But sometimes they have some neat stuff – like right now. She carefully approaches the stall, half turned away so it doesn’t look like she’s interested. She wants to make sure that it’s really something she wants before she commits to the exhausting trial of purchasing it.

“Hello there,” the merchant says, and it takes all of her self control to not turn on the spot and run away. She’s been meaning to get into painting, and the easel she’s looking at seems _perfect_ for it.

“Hello,” she squeaks. She takes a second to clear her throat, as if that will make much of a difference. “How much for the easel?”

The merchant seems glad to part with it, for a reasonable amount. However, when he goes to move the easel to give it to her, she spots a second one tucked behind it. Her vision goes blurry for half a second, and her gut swoops slightly.

“Could I have the second easel as well?” she asks, hearing the words like someone else is speaking them. The merchant is happy to part with both of them, and Bernadetta walks away from the shop with her pockets lighter, and struggling to wrangle both long packages she’s holding. Stupid. This is why she doesn’t shop. What is she going to do with two easels? She only needs one, and she doesn’t really know if anyone else around here likes art. And those who do like art probably have their own already. Ugh.

“Bernie,” a familiar voice sounds behind her. Bernadetta shrinks slightly, but she can’t stop walking, because that would mean that she isn’t getting any closer to her room, and she just wants to be in her room and for today to not throw any more surprises at her.

Dorothea peers at her from where Bernadetta can see, the packages obscuring her vision. “Hi Dorothea,” Bernadetta yelps. She almost drops an easel, readjusts it, and keeps going.

“Give me one of those,” Dorothea says, and doesn’t wait for an answer. She plucks one package from Bernadetta’s arms. Bernadetta does have to admit that makes things easier, and she doesn’t mind Dorothea, but still, having her here means that she has to talk to her.

“Thank you,” she says politely, more because of habit than anything else. “I’m just going back to my room.”

“I assumed so,” Dorothea says wryly. “What are these? They’re strangely shaped.”

Bernadetta swallows, but Dorothea has healed her on the battlefield more times than she can count, and they’re _friends_ , so she suppose that she can answer her question. “They’re… easels. For painting,” she says. “I like my needlework, but lately I’ve been thinking about experimenting with paint too.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dorothea says warmly. “If you need any inspiration, let me know. I’m more than happy to be your muse.”

“Right,” Bernadetta says, voice firmly back into squeaking territory. Why does Dorothea have to say such things so confidently? Bernadetta could never do that.

“But why do you have two?” Dorothea asks, holding the long package out in front of her as if it might be able to answer. Bernadetta wishes that it could. Then she wouldn’t have to admit anything.

“Because I bought two,” she says, and puts on a burst of speed. They’re just going past the fishing pond now, so the dorms are close. She just has to get to her room…

“Well, yes,” Dorothea says, turning her head so Bernadetta can see her smile. “Were you thinking of gifting one to someone? That’s lovely of you.”

Bernadetta wishes that she could be the person that Dorothea is thinking of, instead of plain old Bernie who only bought two because of her stupid crest, not because she was thinking of anyone else.

“Um… no,” she mumbles. “It’s just a silly thing that I do sometimes.”

“Buy two things?” Dorothea says. “Well… I suppose if you have the money…”

“That’s not why,” Bernadetta says. She doesn’t want Dorothea to think that she takes her finances lightly. After all, she prides herself on being quite good with her math and accounting – she knows how to take care of an estate. “It’s because… well…”

“Yes?” Dorothea says. They climb the stairs and Bernadetta bites her lip.

“It’s because of my crest,” she blurts out, almost running towards her room. “It makes me do things twice, right? So sometimes, I do things twice. Stupid things. Like buy multiples of things I don’t need.”

She can’t place the expression on Dorothea’s face. “I didn’t know that could happen,” she says, keeping up with Bernadetta’s flight easily. “Do crests trigger often outside of combat?”

Bernadetta pushes her door open and jumps inside, closing it behind her and hoping that Dorothea doesn’t mind talking through the wood. “It does to me,” she admits. “I don’t know about anyone else. I haven’t talked about it.”

“I don’t know much about crests, really,” Dorothea says. “They weren’t really relevant when I was in the opera. Oh, sometimes I played characters that supposedly had them, but it was rarely relevant to the story, and we never tried to show that particularly.”

“My grandmother had this crest,” Bernadetta says, settling the easel beside her door so that it’s easy to unpack later. “She passed away a while ago, but I remember when I was really young, how strict she was. She ran out entire household and governed all our land, and I don’t think that _she_ ever had problems with her crest.”

“Have you ever asked?” Dorothea says. “After all, if you were really young, then even if it had happened there wouldn’t be anyone who would think to tell you. Who would know?”

Bernadetta sits down on the floor and begins tugging her boots off. “My mother, I guess,” she says after a pause. “They were close.”

“Have you ever asked your mother about it?” Dorothea says.

“No,” Bernadetta admits. “I just thought… it was a problem for me to deal with.”

“And no one else in your family has your crest? No one you can ask?”

Bernadetta puts her boots beside the door, in easy reach for the inevitable time when she is once more dragged out of her sanctuary. “No,” she says. “My grandmother had three children, and they had children too, but I’m the only one out of all of them who got a crest.” She folds her hands in front of her, nervously playing with her shirt. “I don’t know why. There’s no reason it should have been me. My oldest cousin… he’s in the army, and my mother says that he might be a general soon. He should have gotten a crest. He could have used it, for what it’s actually meant to be used for, not… buying two easels when I don’t even need one and I have no idea what I’m going to do with the other.”

“What it’s meant to be used for,” Dorothea repeats solemnly. “You mean fighting? War?”

Bernadetta shuffles closer to the door. “Um… yeah.”

Dorothea is quiet for so long that Bernadetta almost thinks that she’s left.

“I don’t know, Bernie,” she finally says. “I think that buying two easels is a better use of a crest than killing someone. And from what I know about you, I think that you’re the best person who could have inherited your crest. People say that there’s no reason behind it, that it’s completely random, but I want to believe that crests go to the right people. And you’re the right person. I believe in that.”

Bernadetta sniffles a little, and wipes her eyes. “Thanks, Dorothea,” she whispers. They’re quiet for a few seconds, letting that sink in. “Um,” Bernadetta says. “Do you… want to keep that easel?”

“Me?” Dorothea asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Bernadetta says, more strongly. “I want you to have it. If you don’t want to use it, then you can just… give it to someone else or something, but I want you to have it.” And this way, she won’t have to open her door to get it from Dorothea. Score!

“Thank you Bernie,” Dorothea says. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find some time to try and paint something too. Say, I promise to show you my attempts if you promise to show me yours?”

“That’s… fair,” Bernadetta says. “Okay. We’ll do it!”

“Lovely,” Dorothea says. Bernadetta can imagine her smile. She smiles too, at the door, and wonders if Dorothea is thinking about Bernadetta’s smile too. “It’s a promise.”

“It’s a promise,” Bernadetta echoes, and thinks about how lucky she is to have a friend who cares for her this much.


End file.
